Such is Life
by Rhi
Summary: A depressed Rincewind tells a story - a love story. About himself...oh yeah, and a woman. Features a cameo by Death.


**Such is Life**

***

The universe works in such a way that cars do not chase dogs, lawyers do not apologize for hurting someone's feelings and that Rincewind will never, ever be happy. 

The 'wizard' pondered this as he sat in a pub halfway in the middle of nowhere, gazing down into some icky brown muck that was supposed to be beer*.

~~~

*It was beer, in fact. It just didn't LOOK like beer.

~~~

Rincewind took another sip and gazed dismally around the deserted pub. It wasn't, in fact, deserted; currently the few people sharing the small place with him were: the bartender, an Igor that was currently sweeping up nonexistent dust, an odd-looking gnoll, and… what Rincewind thought was a person but couldn't really be sure. It *was* a person, if arms were generally supposed to protrude from foreheads.

Oh, yes. And Death was there, too.

GOOD EVENING, Death said.

"What do you want?" Rincewind grunted at the black-robed figure that had sat down on the stool next to him.  
A BEER, Death said, but he seemed to be addressing the bartender, who sort of blinked as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing and/or hearing but did what he was told anyway.

Rincewind took a gulp of his own beer and wondered if this day could get any worse. He heard a loud, pronounced SNAP, and turned.

The Luggage licked its lips. Or it gave off the impression that it would have licked its lips if it had any. Rincewind blinked, then noticed the oddly-formed figure that had been sitting at the table the Luggage now shuffled under was gone. 

"Wonder if it tasted nice," Rincewind muttered idly, and turned to Death, who was sipping his beer. Or…he *seemed* to sip his beer, but not really – Death sort of lifted the mug and the muck that was in it drained away slowly, giving off the impression that someone was sipping it. So logically it followed that Death was sipping his beer.

"What are you doing here?" Rincewind asked, and looked around. Igor hadn't even glanced at Death, the gnoll was busy picking fleas out of what Rincewind thought was supposed to be its hair but coated with too much grime and dirt to tell, and the bartender looked torn between dashing out the door or having a seizure. 

Death had that sort of affect on people – they either ignored him or were deathly—er, pretty much afraid of him. That is, people other than Rincewind and wizards in general. But then again, Rincewind wasn't exactly a 'wizard in general'…

I'M DRINKING A BEER, Death said.

"Apart from that. Don't you have people to send off to the afterlife, a higher purpose to do, that sort of thing?" Rincewind asked, irritated. 

It should be noted that Rincewind had exactly three emotions:  
One was fear, in which he was teeth-chatteringly, knee-knockingly, eyes-bulgingly …afraid. Most people who knew Rincewind were quite familiar with this.

The second was delusional – in which he believed he could do anything. This was generally followed up by a dose of reality, and the third emotion, which is—

Depression. 

Usually Rincewind cycled through all three emotions, and it always ended with Depression. And that emotion lead him to dusty old pubs with beer so thick you could cut it with a knife. Like now.

I'M ON A BREAK, Death said.

"A break from killing people?" Rincewind accused, even though he knew Death didn't actually kill people. He just helped them along _after_ they were killed, which Death, Rincewind knew, would certainly inform him shortly.

I DO NOT KILL PEOPLE, I MERELY—

"Help them along after they are killed, yes, yes, I know," Rincewind finished bitterly. He was in a rather bad mood, and in this bad mood the sort of logic that told people NOT to get annoyed with Death - because, well, he was Death - was on a holiday. Very far away. 

WHAT'S WRONG? Death said after a long period of silence, in which Igor's hand fell off.

"Oh, blatht it, thith wath my latht replathement…"

"What?" Rincewind asked, blinking over at Death's somber face. 

Death's face was always somber – being a skull and all – but this time it was more somber, if possible.

I BELIEVE IT IS CUSTOMARY FOR TWO COMPANIONS TO, WHEN DEPRESSED AND IN A PUB TOGETHER… ER…WHAT WAS THE ANALOGY? TO CRY THE BEER TOGETHER?

"Cry into their beer together?" Rincewind asked, incredulous.

AH, YES. Death nodded.

"Look, mate, I appreciate the offer but I really don't feel like talking about it," the wizard said bitterly. Death looked hurt.

WHY NOT?

"Because…well…you're _Death_, for crying out loud!" Rincewind let go of his beer and flapped his hands by the wrists, trying to make a point.

Death looked politely puzzled. SO? He asked.

"So…so…I'm talking to _Death _about my problems! Doesn't that seem a little bit *odd* to you?"

Death considered this, cocking his head to the side.

NO, he answered eventually.

"Well, of course not," muttered Rincewind. "You're _Death_."

There was another long period of silence, pierced by the crunching sound as the gnoll plucked a large tick from its head and ate it.

WHAT'S WRONG? Death asked again, and Rincewind gave in with a sigh.

He started to speak, and his voice took on a dreamy quality…

"Well, it all started with this woman—" 

DOESN'T EVERYTHING?

"Look, you said you wanted to hear the story, so shut up and let me tell it, allright?" 

NO NEED TO GET SNAPPISH.

_"Anyway. I had long since given up on women – being a wizard and all, we don't exactly have a fixation on sex or anything like that, but that's off topic – I gave up on women because I'm hopeless with them. _

_So, I was wandering along the streets of Ankh-Morpork, you know, minding my own business and all, and then this *woman* bumps into me. And I mean *woman*. Boy, was she a piece of work. Just…all around perfect, and beautiful, you know? Really beautiful. Big blue eyes, black hair, beautiful skin. The whole works. Naturally, I stumbled about and generally made a big fool of myself as usual, but she didn't kick me in the parts or spit on me or anything like women normally do to me, she just smiled. And the next thing I know, I'm in the 'Drum having a drink with her, right?_

_So we're talking, and she mentions something about my hat, and I get talking on how I'm a great and powerful wizard. What's that? Oh, bloody hell, I *know* I'm not – men just naturally boast when they're in front of a beautiful woman, all right? Of course you didn't know that. You're not a man. Well, strictly speaking. No glands and all that._

_Look, shut up, all right? I'm trying to tell a story here._

_And then she's leaning forward to kiss me, and her lips are as ripe and as round as—_

_Oh yeah. I skipped a bit there. Sorry._

_So I'm boasting to her about being a wizard, and then she asks me where my staff is, all coy like. She even winks at me! WINKS! Hardly any women've even LOOKED at me, let alone WINKED!_

_I know, I know._

_I know! Shut up! Stop rubbing it in!_

_Listen, I kno—are you drunk?_

_No, I'm not drunk. YOU'RE drunk!  
I know you're Death and all, but are you drunk?_

_Okay, okay! I'll get on with the story…_

_Narrative, then!  
SHUT UP!_

_When did I get an audience?_

_Ow! Stop throwing those bloody red potatoes! _

_Tomatoes, then._

_I'll continue with the story, if you let me out of this headlock._

_Thank you._

_Yeah, so, she winked at me. I'm half-drunk by now, so all I do is smile and go "thank you," even though she never really asked me a question. She didn't seem to mind though. And then she chucks back her beer – Cor, I've never seen anyone, male or female, who chucks back beer like that – and politely asks if I'll walk her home. I'm all, 'I'm not very good geographically-wise,' and she goes, she goes_

_'Oh, but I'm sure you'll make a fine…*body* guard…'_

_In that real *suggestive* voice that women have. The way she said body…ooh, it makes me shudder just thinking of it._

_Shut up, I'm trying to tell the story here._

_And then we're walking through Ankh-Morpork, and she decides that she doesn't really want to go home. She wanted to go to the docks and look out over the water. I asked her if she was new in Ankh-Morpork, because the waters of the Ankh weren't really that much *water* but mostly sludge and bodily secretions, but she laughed and we went there anyway._

_So we're looking out over the water, and—_

_Oh, bloody hell. It wasn't –that- romantic. It wasn't a full moon and there weren't any violins playing, either! It was the *Ankh* for crying out loud!_

_Stop crying. Please, stop crying! Oh, gods. People nowadays…_

_Anyway. We're almost to the end now._

_So we just stand there, and her hair is fluttering in the wind like a wave of midnight silk, and her eyes are glimmering like the waters we're looking out over, and—_

_Oh, yeah. The Ankh River isn't blue, is it?_

_Well, her eyes are glimmering like, like the color water should be. No, not grey. BLUE, for crying out loud, BLUE! _

_Okay. Like sapphires, then._

_So her eyes were glimmering like sapphires, and it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. She sort of turned towards me, and caught my eye, and she leaned forward all slow like—_

_No, Death, it wasn't like YOUR slowing of time. More romantic._

_Oh, come on._

_I'm not saying your particular method of slowing time couldn't ever be romantic; it's just a bit – stopped._

_What I'm saying is, time sort of stops when you mean to slow it._

_Look, that's not the point, all right? Let's just get along with the story._

_She leans towards me, and her lips are sort of glowing—_

_No, NOT like radioactive sludge! Shut up!  
They're glowing like the light reflected off a thousand rubies; they were as smooth as red silk—_

_Yes, I know I've already used the silk metaphor for her hair. _

_Why can't I use the same metaphor for two things?_

_Allright. Her hair was flowing like a wave of black satin, then. You happy?_

_Fine. So her lips were so smooth and silky like silk, and she leans towards me, and then I wake up._"

Rincewind finished his story and stared at the faces that hadn't been there when he first started it. Even the bartender was rapt, mostly because the people were buying drinks and therefore he was in a better mood. He hardly seemed to notice Death anymore.

The pub had seemed to fill up, the patrons seemingly having a sixth sense for a good story told by a tearful – well, not quite tearful – man who was holding a beer. They usually incited handkerchiefs and jerked tears, that sort of thing.

But the faces that should have been tearful were going through various stages of disbelief, expectance, and indignation. The hands that should have been dabbing handkerchiefs to their eyes were clenched.

"Is that it?" a burly dwarf* asked.

~~~  
*It's generally known that most dwarfs are burly, but this one was particularly burly, with a pungent aura of burly-ness.

~~~

"Yep, that's it. It was all just one great fat dream," Rincewind said, and took a swig of his beer.

The people mumbled and slowly filed out, disappointed.

IT WAS ALL A DREAM, Death repeated slowly. Rincewind nodded and swigged his third or forth beer. He had lost count, but he was fairly surprised he'd remained coherent to even COMPLETE the story, tomato tossing and all.

"Yep. All just a bloody big great dream, and then I woke up and I was in some inn. So I got up and wandered over here."  
The Luggage rubbed against his leg affectionately. Rincewind reached down to pat it then noticed it still looked hungry (even though it had eaten about five people who had also tried to pat it) and changed his mind.

HOW INCREDIBLY SAD. Death said forlornly.

"Yeah, well, such is life, mate; such is life," said Rincewind. He set down his beer, dropped a few coins on the countertop and headed for the door.

***

**A/N**: This is my first Discworld fic, so review, people! If people like, I can write a sequel. And even if people DON'T like, I might anyway. ^_^ 

***


End file.
